Shh, come here
I'll tell you something.
It's about me, yes
it's really bad!
I can't look at myself,
I'm guilt ridden.
The person I was
has gone
I've the same face
same eyes, same voice
but I've changed,
been messed up.
My mother would
turn in her grave,
I've been bad, so bad
and now I've told you.
Are you a loose canon
a trumpet,
ready to blow,
a blackmailer?
What do you say,
can you keep a secret?
Will you tell?
Will you?
Do you like a bit of gossip?
Ruth Walters
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gossip-37/
